


Weeping Willow

by twistedrunes



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Adoption, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Canon-Typical Violence, Domestic Violence, F/M, Forced Marriage, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Miscarriage, Morning Sickness, Period-Typical Racism, Period-Typical Sexism, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 03:59:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16905717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twistedrunes/pseuds/twistedrunes
Summary: Prompt:1. For Michael Gray reader lost a baby and is trying to hide it but he either sees it or finds out somehow?2. With Michael Gray. They both love each other but reader has a violent boyfriend and maybe she tries to tell him that she doesn't love him and he gets angry and then Michael saves her?





	Weeping Willow

“A man came to the house today. He said he knows who my mum is, where she is.” Henry says, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you back against his chest.

You’re seated under your favourite tree next to the river on the outskirts of town. The old willow’s weeping branches creating a perfect enclosure, bathing you both in a warm green glow. It’s one of your favourite places to meet. Neither your parents nor Henry’s approving of the two of you seeing each other, so a quiet place to be together is a true treasure. Henry sits with his back against the tree, you sitting between his legs, leaning back against him. You give him a quick kiss on the cheek. “That’s great,” You say happily

“Mum’s really cross. She doesn’t want me to see her.” Henry says his tone tense.

“So what do you want to do?” You ask resting your head back on his shoulder.

“I think I want to find her, talk to her at least,” Henry says

“You should. You’ve always wondered. Where is she?”

“Birmingham,” Henry says. You don’t miss the excitement in his voice.

“You’ve always hated it here.” You say gently linking your fingers in his and pulling his arms more tightly around you.

“Not everything.” He whispers in your ear before kissing your cheek.

\-----------------------------------

You close the front door behind you carefully, making sure to make no sound that would risk waking up your husband. Turning towards the factory, you make your way along the grey and depressing street. You miss home. You miss the fields and the trees, the sweet smell of the fresh cut hay. You miss seeing the stars at night, and you miss the clean air. You miss Henry too, wherever he is.

Small Heath was where you could get work. The Shelby Motor Company one of the few places which would employ a married woman. With an invalid husband to support, you had few to no other options. You needed to keep food on the table, a roof over your head and your husband happy.  

As you’d been instructed in your interview, you take your employment form to the front office. Presenting the completed forms to the woman on reception you sit in the chair she indicates and fold your hands in your lap. You keep your eyes down while you wait for the foreman to come and collect you.

“Tilly?” A man’s voice asks.

You nod and begin to stand before you look up “Yes.” You say finally, lifting your eyes to meet those of the man speaking to you. “Henry?” You say in surprise. You’d recognise him anywhere of course, but he looked so different to the last time you saw him; a beautiful and obviously very expensive suit, slicked hair and he looked much older, his eyes more guarded than the last time you’d seen him.

“They call me Michael now. Michael Gray.” He says, shoving his hand into his coat pocket and pulling out a cigarette case, offering you one before taking one for himself. “It’s my real name.” He explains.

You decline the cigarette with a small shake of your head. “You found your mum?” You ask, happy for him.

He ducks his head but keeps his eyes on you as he lights his cigarette. “Yeah, yeah I did.” He replies with a smile, suddenly looking much more like the boy you used to know.  

“That’s wonderful Henry. Sorry, I mean Michael.” You say.

“So what are you doing here?” He asks

“Mrs Redding?” A voice asks from the doorway.

You turn towards the voice “Yes.”

“You’re married?” Michael asks surprised, holding his hand up to the foreman, indicating he should wait.

“Yes.” You nod, lifting your hand to show him your wedding ring as if you needed to provide proof of your marriage.

“And you’re working here?” Michael asks, not keeping the consternation from his voice.

“Yes, my husband is, sick.” You explain dropping your eyes.

“Michael!” A voice calls from somewhere further back in the offices.

“Coming, Tommy,” Michael calls over his shoulder before turning back to you. “It’s good to see you. We’ll catch up some time. You should come and meet my mum.” He says.

You smile and nod and turn towards the foreman.

\---------------------------------------

“Tilly!” Michael calls across the factory forecourt.

You stop walking, glancing at your watch. “Mr Gray.” You greet him as he approaches you.

Michael’s brow furrows “You don’t have to call me Mr Gray. We’re friends.” He says placing his hand just above your elbow.

You nod, stepping backwards, so his hand slides off your arm. “I need to go Michael. My husband will be waiting for me. He’ll need his dinner.” You say glancing at your watch again.

“I’ll walk you home, it’ll be good to catch up.”

“No. I’m sure you have more important things to do.” 

Michael frowns, his hand rising to your elbow again, “Tilly, are you angry with me?” You shake your head quickly. “I’m sorry I didn’t write. Things got, busy.” Michael says ducking his head to meet your eye.

“I’m married now, Michael. It’s not proper to be talking to you.” You say barely raising your voice above a whisper. “I have to go now.” You say hurrying away.

\----------------------------------------

“You’re late!” Your husband shouts as soon as you step in the door.

“I’m sorry, one of the bosses wanted to talk to me.” You say quietly. “I’ll get dinner started.” You say sliding along the wall to slip past him.

“What did you do wrong?” He asks placing his hands either side of you on the wall. Preventing you from moving.

“Nothing.” You say, looking down, avoiding his gaze.

“Liar!” he shouts slamming his fist against the wall next to your face. Without giving you a chance to respond, he roars “I’m going to the pub. Get some decent company for a change.” And storms out the door.

\--------------------------------------

Watching the clock, you wait nervously for your husband to come home. You daren’t go to bed in case he was hungry when he got back. As you sit and wait and watch the seconds, minutes and hours tick by you can’t help but think about Henry, or Michael as he was now known. You’d been friends from the moment he arrived in your small town until the day he left to find his mother. You were happy for him of course. He’d never been suited to country life, eschewing anything which was natural, dirty or outdoors. You always knew he would leave. But it hadn’t stopped you from crying for a week after he left.

Always suspicious of the adopted boy, your parents had never approved of Henry and so when he left they couldn’t have been more pleased. The rumour that he was from a Gypsy family only confirmed their fears of what might have been. Within six months they had you married to a friend of your fathers. He was twice your age, and you had never met him, but that didn’t faze your parents who thought you needed a firm steadying hand.

The crashing of the front door snaps you from your thoughts. You open the kitchen door carefully.

“Why aren’t you in bed?” Your husband demands.

“I thought you might like something to eat.” You say quietly.

“That’s your problem woman, you think.” Your husband slurs his hand grabbing your breast roughly. Pushing you back towards the table.

“I have some nice sausages I got from the butcher.” You offer, vainly trying to prevent the inevitable.

“Bet you that’s not all you got from the butcher ‘ey? Fucking slut.” He says grabbing your neck and slamming you against the table and hoisting up your skirt.

\--------------------------------------

“Are you alright Tilly?” Jane the girl who works next to you asks after you return from the bathroom for the third time that morning.

“Just a bit of an upset stomach.” You reply, shaking your head in an attempt to sharpen your wits.

“Mm,” She hums eyebrow raised as she looks over your face, makeup can only hide so much.

“It’s nothing.” You say returning to your work.

“Mrs Redding.” The foreman calls.

You stand and follow him silently to his office.

“Are you pregnant Mrs Redding?” He asks as soon as the door closed.

“No.” You reply. The foreman stays silent, waiting for you to meet his eye. “I haven’t been to the doctor.” You say eventually.

“You know you can’t stay on if you’re pregnant.” He says.

“But I have to work.” You say unable to keep the panic from your voice. “My husband,” You can’t finish your sentence, fear closing your throat.

The foreman nods once and places a kindly hand on your arm “Well there is that terrible stomach bug going around.” He says meaningfully. You nod gratefully, tears welling in your eyes. “Back to work then.” He says.

“Thank you.” You say before rushing back to your station.

\-------------------------------------

“Tilly!” You hear Michael call you as you cross the forecourt. You keep walking pretending not to have heard.  “Tilly!” You hear him call as you walk down the street away from the factory. You duck your head and keep walking. “Tilly!” He says again catching your arm at the end of your street.

“Why are you ignoring me?” Michael asks. “Are you sure you’re not mad?”

“I’m married, it’s not right for me to talk to you without my husband.” You reply quickly. “I have to go.” You say

“Just wait a minute,” Michael says. “We’re going out tonight, to the Garrison. You should come, meet my mum.”

You shake your head “No, I don’t go out without my husband.”

“He can come too. It would be good to meet the man who snagged you.” He says a half-hearted attempt at teasing.

Michael’s brow furrows as his eyes flit over your face, pausing at the dark staining under your eye. “What happened to your eye?” He asks quietly.

You look back to your front door again “You know me, clumsy, I tripped.” You reply

“Tilly,” Michael begins quietly

You shake your head “I’m clumsy you know that.” You cut him off. “I have to go.” You say before hurrying down the street to home.

\-------------------------------------------

You kneel next to the toilet, trying desperately to vomit quietly so as not to wake your husband.

“Where’s my breakfast?” You husband shouts from the kitchen.

You try to answer but are racked by a new wave of nausea and vomit again.

“You been drinking my fucking whiskey?” Your husband asks from the doorway.

You shake your head as you stand. “I’ll make your breakfast now.” You say trying to slip past him.

“I asked you a fucking question.” Your husband says grabbing your shoulders and pushing you against the wall. “Are you drinking my fucking whiskey?”

“No.” You say shaking your head.

“Really?” He grabs your neck and hisses dangerously “‘Cause it keeps going missing. I had a full fucking bottle yesterday morning, and now there’s none left.” He squeezes tighter and lifts his hand forcing you onto your tiptoes. “And here you are throwing your fucking guts up. You never could hold ya fuckin’ liquor.” He releases you, and you gasp for breath, before you can though he slaps you across the face with the back of his hand.

Already off balance, you stumble sideways. You reach desperately for the bannister, just glancing it with your fingertips. You hit each step on the way down before curling yourself into a protective ball at the bottom of the stairs. You husband pounds down the stairs and pulls his foot back ready to kick you in the stomach. “No the baby!” You scream wrapping your arms around your middle and rolling away.

He stops, bends down and grabbing your throat, yanking you to your feet. “You’re pregnant?” He asks.

“We’re pregnant.” You correct gently, your hand caressing his wrist.

“Stupid bitch.” He sneers, lifting your feet from the floor. “What the fuck d’ya do that for? Think you’re going to sit around playing house do you? Think I’m going to go do some fucking job beneath me, just to keep you at home? Do ya?”

“No.” You choke. He pushes you back against the wall tightening his grip on your throat. You claw at his wrist trying to get free. “The baby.” You plead.

\------------------------------------

You come around, on the floor at the foot of the stairs. You open your eyes cautiously, listening carefully for any sound of your husband. Not able to hear him, you drag yourself to your knees. It hurts to breathe, your throat still feeling as if your husband’s hand is wrapped around it. Using the bannister you pull yourself to your feet, slowly you put on your hat and coat and leave for work. Each step is agony, the pain in your stomach forcing you to stop twice on your way to the factory. You struggle into the factory just as the whistle blows. You punch in and make your way slowly to your bench. You lower yourself to your stool gingerly. You’re vaguely aware of a warm, wet sensation between your legs.

“Tilly!” The foreman cries from behind you.

Sliding from your stool, you turn towards him. As you turn you feel the world spin, darkness rapidly closing in on you.

\------------------------------------

“Mrs Redding?” A voice asks. You open your eyes, looking up at a kind-faced nurse. You open your mouth to speak. “Shh, don’t talk. Your vocal cords are bruised.” The nurse instructs. You nod mutely. “The doctor will be in to see you as soon as your husband arrives.”

“Yeah, well I’m here now.” You hear your husband slur from the doorway.

“I’ll go get him then.” The nurse says, slipping quickly from the room.

Your husband stays in the doorway smoking. You hear the doctor greet him and usher him inside. They both stand at the foot of your bed. The doctor smiling benignly, your husband glaring at you.  You nod in agreement when your husband tells the doctor you fell down the stairs. Nodding again when he says that you foolishly left to go to work while he was out looking for help and again when the doctor suggested you were probably a bit dazed. You watch them mutely as the doctor apologises to your husband for his loss, patting him on the shoulder, explaining that you’ll be fine to try again soon. You smile weakly as the doctor tells your husband how lucky he is to have a wife who won’t be able to talk for a week or two. Finally, the doctor tells your husband that you’ll be ready to go home in a few days and leaves. You husband grunts and follows him. You lie back, looking at the ceiling, tears rolling unchecked down your cheeks.

\-------------------------------------

The next morning the nurse gives you a small notebook and a pencil so you can write rather than talk. You sit in the room and wait. There’s a knock at the door, you turn to see Michael. You shake your head violently, wincing at the pain it causes in your neck. Michael ignores you and comes and stands next to the bed.

You pull out your pad and scribble quickly “ _My husband might be here at any minute. Please go.”_

Michael shakes his head “He’s not coming.”

You know Michael is probably correct, but your husband is unpredictable, and so there is every chance he may turn up. Tears start falling as you write again “ _Please you need to go.”_

Michael leans against the edge of the bed, placing his hand over yours. “He’s not coming, and he’s never going to hurt you again.” He says calmly. You look down at his hand and notice his knuckles are bruised and that there’s a cut above his eyebrow and a bruise on his cheek.

_What happened?_  You write quickly. Before reaching out and rubbing your fingers tenderly over his cheek.

“What should have happened the first time I saw you with a black eye. You’ve never been clumsy.” Michael says his voice hard, as he shakes his head. His fingers hover above the bruised flesh on your neck, before he swears under his breath. “I’m so sorry Tilly.” He says, his voice tight.

You shake your head again. Pleading with him with your eyes to go  _He’ll come back._  You write.

“He won’t come back. I promise.” Michael says. “He knows that you’re protected now and that he’s never to come into Birmingham, or anywhere near you again.” Michael glances at your face before continuing. “My family are very powerful here. They are well known and what they say goes.” He takes your hand. “I’ll look after you, I promise.”

Your eyes flood with tears as you let in the tiny sliver of hope that your husband is truly gone from your life. You roll on your side gripping Michaels hand tightly as silent sobs wrack your body. You feel Michael shuffling next to you before you feel his weight on the bed. His arms wrap around you as he pulls you to him. Holding you as you cry. “I’m sorry I didn’t come back for you. I’m sorry I didn’t write. I’m sorry I didn’t do something as soon as I saw that bruise. I’m sorry you lost your baby. I’m so sorry Tilly.” Michael says softly.

\-----------------------------------

“Have the nurse come fetch me when your husband arrives Mrs Redding so I can give him the instructions before you go.” The doctor says.

“Her husband’s not taking her home. I am.” Michael says calmly from the doorway. With an air of authority, you have never seen before.

“I can’t release her into the care of just anyone.” The doctor splutters. “I need to know she’ll be looked after.”

Michael looks at the doctor with icy regard “You and I both know her husband is in no way the appropriate person to look after her. He put her in here. Killed his own child.” You gasp slightly at his words. Michael gives you a quick sympathetic look, his eyes closing by way of apology before he turns his attention back to the doctor. “You might be able to pretend the finger marks on her throat are the result of falling down the stairs, but I won’t be. Neither will the rest of my family.” You notice the doctor start slightly at the mention of Michael’s family. “So tell me what I need to know.”

Within five minutes Michael is wheeling you out of the hospital. A young man leans against a car outside smoking a cigarette. “This is Isaiah, he’s my friend. Isaiah this is Tilly.” Michael introduces you. You notice Isaiah’s knuckles are bruised and his lip split.

Isaiah nods and holds out his hand “Nice to finally to meet you, Tilly.” You shake his hand with a nod. Michael helps you into the back of the car and Isaiah gets behind the wheel. 

Once underway Michael turns to you. “I’ve packed you a case, you can come and stay with my mum and me for a few days. Until you’re better and you work out what you want to do.”

Your hand rises to his cheek, stroking it gently by way of thanks.

He takes your hand in his and holds it in your lap “I’m going to look after you, everything is going to be alright.” He assures you quietly.

The car comes to a stop outside a lovely house. A woman opening the door before Michael even has the car door open.

Michael takes your hand and wraps his arm around your waist to support you. Helping you to the door. Isaiah following behind on a case. “Mum, this is my friend Tilly. Tilly this is my mum, my real mum.” Michael says beaming.

\----------------------------------

You’d been with Michael and his mother in their house for a week now. You were resting on the sofa reading while Michael drank and smoked. “Why did you marry him?” He asks suddenly.

“I didn’t have a choice.” You answer quietly, your throat still tender.

“Did you ever love him?”

“No. Never.”

Michael stands walking to the doorway. “Let’s go for a walk.” He says “’Bout time you got out and got some fresh air.” He quips.

You nod in agreement as you get to your feet. Not meeting Michael’s gaze.

You hear Michael sigh. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He says coming closer and taking your hands. “I’m not like him, you don’t have to agree. I won’t hurt you.” He says. You nod silently. Michael lifts your chin, so you are looking at him. “I will never let anyone hurt you ever again.” He says.

“Let’s go.” You reply, your voice still gravelly. “I want to.” You say slipping your hand in his.

 

“Come down here,” Michael says walking down an embankment towards the river. He leads you to a willow parting the curtain of leaves for you. As you step in the green light envelopes you. “I come here when I need to think. It always reminds me of you.” He says.

“It’s like home.” You say quietly, turning in a circle taking it in.

“Are you going to go back?” Michael asks you can hear the hope in his voice. You wonder if he’s hoping you’ll say no. 

“No. Mum and Dad think I should have stayed with him. A wife’s duty and all that.” You say quietly.

Michael tuts and shakes his head. “I’m sorry I didn’t come back for you. I thought you would be safer away from my family.”

“I would have come with you, it wouldn’t have mattered.” You say, your hand catching his.

Michael stops and wraps his arms around your waist. He rests his forehead against yours. ”I’ve thought about you every day.”

“Me too.” You agree.

“You’re the only good thing to come out of that shithole,” Michael says pulling you closer. You lift your hands to his face, pressing your lips to his. Michael kisses you back. His hand holding the back of your head tenderly. “I love you.” Michael says against your lips “I always have.”

“And I love you, Michael Gray.”


End file.
